Did I have to come this wasteland? Place of no-things, loss and aloneness, just so I could really see?
Even once I’d arrived, was it necessary to strip away any last vestiges of safety and comfort? Key lifelines, no matter how tenuous, taken too?
Nothing grows here. Nothing happens. There’s a silence I can hardly stand.
A dusty dustbowl, static frozen representations of what my life once was. Kind of like those movie special effects, where someone has the power to stop time. I can move around, but nothing else does. You think it’d be cool for a while, and it is. Then, it’s more horrifying than anything else.
There’s no activity. Nothing to say or do.
Just try going about your regular (haha!) activities. Go on. Nothing here is conducive shielding the eyes from clear understanding.
Distractions lose their lustre. No shine or pleasure. Can’t hold my interest, I have no interest. Its nil, zilch, de nada.
There’s many tears, as always. But I don’t know what I’m crying for any longer.
Much as I’ve always respected crying for the great relief it offers, just maybe I’m getting a little sick of that, too.
I’ve heard it said before, but you should never reveal your secret identity, coz it always backfires somehow. And now I’ve learnt that lesson for myself.
Seems at the heart of the matter, are my over-powering desires that still, after all this time, rely on some kind of confirmation. The samskaras that rule my disposition in this birth push so hard, especially now.
It’s enough to drive a person insane.
The harder I try, the more confusing things become. Or is that, the less I try? The difference appears to be lost on me right now.
So I’ve stopped. I am stopping.
Is this all that’s left?
Funny how, people can show such disaffection and/or lack of care, isn’t it? But take part of their life away, and they’re devastated. Even if that part was only tiny and relatively unimportant. It was still something that contributed to their view of life, how they relate to everything and everyone.
Really, if there was an easy way, I’d take it. No hesitation. I’m so familiar with struggle these days, perhaps I wouldn’t recognise it now, even if it did show up?
The worst thing about all this is that no one can help me. No one. I want to be helped so badly – part of my problem, actually. I want to be able to rely on other people, but repeatedly I’ve seen how that just leads to more heartache.
I am an ocean of intensity and neediness. I am relentlessly in need of love and affection that never arrives. Or when a facsimile appears, I’ll take it. But later I always discover it was just a copy… because it never lasts.
Nothing ever does.
There’s no hand, no shoulder, just… other people also in pain and struggling and they can’t help me either. It’s understandable, really.
So I take it all back. I have to. Because I didn’t know that heartache could make your entire body hurt.
Just gonna hang out here in nowhere land a little longer…
~Svasti
Svasti: A Journey From Assault To Wholeness 
Svasti, my heart is with you … I know this place.
I’ve been sitting with your words for a long time this afternoon … They have inspired me to write … Thank you …
Svasti … remember that even here, in the wasteland, you write … you express … you are reaching out for contact … and you have made contact, first with your own wounded self …
This will pass … Have you come through this before? … then you know it will pass, and you will pass through it …
Bless xo
@Jaliya – Your response post on your blog made me cry. And I’m grateful for your kind and sweet words and gentle advice. They helped and were part of the reason I was able to finally leave the house yesterday.
Once upon a time I thought I’d reached the deepest, darkest place I’d ever been. Apparently not. Regardless, I do know, yes, I’ll make it through. I just don’t know when or how, exactly.
Blessings to you, also xo
Svasti–I am so sorry things are so dark for you. I so well remember writing a post very much like this one a few months ago. I wish there was something I could say or do to help, but I know I can’t. I hope the darkness lifts for you soon.
@tricia – Thank you. Me too.
I’m sorry, Svasti.
@Jennifer – Thanks. I think the best thing I know about all of this is… it can’t last forever.
When we hit bottom and realize we cannot go any lower — that’s a momentus day! Congratulations. Now, you can start looking upward and figuring out how to climb out of the abyss.
For me, this day came on December 31, 2006. I was a hollow, tearful, dysfunctional, zombie-like shell. And I thought, “I can’t continue to live this way.” I made a resolution – gave myself one year – to pull myself up out of the darkness and back into the light. OK, so it’s tough. And maybe it doesn’t happen in the way we plan or expect, but healing and trying to heal is a choice we make, just like sitting in PTSD hell is also a choice we make.
You’re a smart, intelligent, self-aware and creative survivor. You can survive survival – and get back to living. We’re with you. When you’re ready, get going! 🙂
@Michele – Ah, you echo the words and sentiment of my Guru – a very wise person! To paraphrase something he once said – how can I sit there sympathising with you, I’m cheering you on instead!
I am still a hollow, tearful, dysfunctional, zombie-like shell, with occaisional outburts of strength and something resembling normality.
You’re right, its all about choices, once we realise these things are a choice. But yeah, its not easy. And to some extent, I think you have to go through certain things before we can arise.
There’s a great post over at Gianna’s blog, about the value of depression. It does have something to teach us, as obscure as that might be.
Knowing my own words might be meaningless to you I thought perhaps this poem by Mary Oliver would resonate with you.
Just this morning, my friend sent it to me in email. She’s also having a rough time.
I doubt me saying “you are not alone” brings you any comfort during this time but I am sending thoughts of love to you anyway. I hope you catch them
The Journey
Mary Oliver
From New and Selected Poems
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.
DON’T GIVE UP! Svasti.
DON’T GIVE UP!
@Christa – I’m not giving up, not yet…
You can depend on other people, but not for everything. No one person can be your whole life, but small gestures from many people reveal the beauty inherent in being alive. Other people are raw material, you are the artist who molds it.
@RB – I’m not sure that I can. Shifting sands it seems, is the game of relying on anyone. At least, that’s how it seems for me. I’ve never expected to rely on anyone for everything in my life. Just for some consistency, that’s all. And perhaps I’m just not fated for that. I don’t know…
Hello, Svasti –
This is such a moving post – I’ve felt that ocean of need, and I’ve had to stop everything while I fell freely, no idea where I was going.
I’m so glad to hear in your latest post that you got yourself out the door and could take in the beauty of things. It’s good that you really had reached bottom and could start to turn things around, however heavy that first step seemed of going outside.
All love to you — John
@John – I certainly don’t think for one minute that what I’m going through is unique. In some ways its good to know of others who’ve been through similar things, although I’m never pleased to hear of people having to suffer.
Yeah, I got out the door, and to a lesser extent, I did it again today (no cycling, and I fell asleep and missed my yoga class). But that renewed knowledge of nature as my ally is powerful.
“I am an ocean of intensity and neediness.” That’s a profound statement, Svasti, and beautiful in its own sad way…..just like you! You won’t always be sad but you’ll always be beautiful.
@Lydia – That’s very sweet of you to say! I know I’ve come a long way since I first started this process of healing. But clearly, there’s still much further to go!